Pressganged
by Adrian Tullberg
Summary: He is not happy. Slightly absurd crossover.


A manicured handed separated him from his DS _just_ as he was about to beat that level.

"I hope there's a good reason. As in that date with a Penthouse Pet you promised me."

Cuddy, stony faced, heaved up the four-and-a-half-foot long leather case – resembling an oversized attaché - she was carrying and dropped it on House's desk.

House glanced at it before giving Cuddy an accusing gaze. "That is not a good reason."

"There's something tearing up cars on the interstate, a few miles East of here."

House didn't move. "We have a perfectly able and fully equipped military and National Guard."

"House …"

"Dad would kick my ass if I showed up the guys and gals in uniform."

Cuddy leaned in closer. "What your father will do to you is nothing compared to what _I_ will do to you if there's one more person in our emergency room than there needs to be."

House wordlessly swung his legs off the desk and grabbed the case with his left hand.

Cuddy crossed her arms. "Wilson's waiting in the red zone."

"I'm only doing this because that little speech turned me on."

* * *

Wilson noticed how clear the highway was.

The lane on his left choked full of near stationary cars might have had something to do with it.

"Have _you_ tried using it?"

Wilson glanced down at the case before focussing on the road. "Me and Cuddy did, remember?"

"You didn't try again."

"You'll ... just have to get used to the fact that it only works for you."

"Maybe it's … warmed up now."

"Later." Wilson scanned the skies above. "Right now, _you_ have to use it."

House had gotten out his prescription bottle and popped the lid "_You're_ not the one …" House shook out a Vicodin and swallowed it, glaring at Wilson. "… who has to _use_ it."

"You know, it's not _using_ it that you hate…"

"Oh, the psychoanalysis…"

"It's the fact that you _have_ to use it. You would rather give something like that to somebody else instead of taking on more responsibility."

"Yes, the whole obligation free field of medicine has left me completely incapable of dealing with responsibility."

"How long did Cuddy have to hunt you down yesterday before you finally went to the Clinic?"

"Forty-five minutes. Not my personal best but I was _sure_ she wouldn't look in the lounge."

* * *

The army was too busy directing people out of the area that they didn't even notice them driving in.

They found a deserted street with no (visible) cameras and long-evacuated buildings. Wilson wondered that this new ability to discover witness-free areas would carry over to the time when he would eventually snap around House and need to find a place to dump a body.

House shoved open the passenger door with his cane before levering himself out. "Maybe we should get rid of this."

Wilson stared at the … thing in the middle of the city. "Bear in mind that whatever argument along those lines will result in me pointing to ugly over there."

House leaned into the car, grabbing the case. "Maybe ugly and all his friends that were here before are attracted to _this_." House lifted the case to Wilson's eyeline and shook it. "They didn't show up until we found it."

Wilson glanced back at the green – no, green-purple thing before looking back at House. "Or maybe _this_…" Wilson snatched the case and heaved it onto the roof of his car, inwardly wincing at the possible dent. "… was attracted to _them_."

House looked at the spectacle then started handing his wallet and cell phone to Wilson. "Let's get on with it."

Wilson's mouth twitched into a grin. "Eye of the Tiger."

House finished handing over his valuables and snapped open the latches on the case, glancing at … _it_. "That is not Apollo Creed. I could take Apollo Creed."

Wilson finished pocketing House's iPod next to his keys. "You took the others."

House lifted the lid of the case, and reached in, grabbing the object.

"Hey…"

"You wanted me to do this."

"Not next to the car, okay?"

House glowered at Wilson, taking the object, and hobbling some feet away.

He turned to face Wilson, who nodded his approval of the distance House had adopted.

House tossed his cane to Wilson, and took several deep breaths.

Then he lifted the sword above his head.

"BY THE POWER OF GRAYSKULL!!"

Wilson had raised his hand to shield his eyes from the burst of electrical light. The accompanying wind that rushed in, then exploded outwards sent his tie fluttering around in the air.

When it stopped, Wilson lowered his hand, repressing the smirk.

House lowered the sword, his expression full of exceptional bad grace. Although Wilson could see that appearing in public wearing only bearskin briefs and a harness may not be a high point in the average person's day.

"Don't laugh."

"I … I have never laughed. The other times I could have, but I didn't."

House had stomped over to the case and retrieved the other items; a mid-sized metal shield and a large battle-axe. "You wanted to."

Wilson took the now empty case and shoved it back in the car. "Have you tried controlling the process?"

House leaned down, and stared at his reflection in the side mirror; the clean-shaven face and long hair tied into a ponytail still unnerving him. "Can't."

"Maybe we could pack a change of clothes along with the sword?"

House looked back at the creature rampaging through downtown. "Maybe later." House sheathed the sword on his back. "Just remember to feed Steve McQueen if I die."

"Thought of a name yet?"

"Have you?"

"That outfit positively screams 'Bondage Boy'."

"It's a good thing I'm busy fighting for Truth, Justice and the American Way, otherwise I might test the aerodynamic properties of wiseass Jews."

"My lawyer has instructions to show the pictures to Cameron."

"Just wait here with the car."

House started running. He might have found it enjoyable if the situation was even slightly different.

Now he had to save the world.

In furry undies.


End file.
